


The Runner & the Ivy

by sarahcakes613



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 14:17:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6287935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rickon runs into a bar to get away from some louts, and someone helps him hide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Runner & the Ivy

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this was going to be a basic meetcute inspired by one song and then it turned into a more complicated meetcute inspired by a different song, and now I'm not sure what it is, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY VIVIAN.
> 
> Also, I got one bit from Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

He is running, he doesn’t know for how long, and he doesn’t know if he will ever stop, when he sees it.

It is a light shimmering over a chalkboard sign, music pouring out through glazed windows, and if he is lucky, it is safety in numbers.

He slows his pace as he gets closer, close enough to see an old fashioned wooden sign hanging over the door, creaking in the breeze. It says **The Wildling Queen** , and Rickon briefly wonders at the story behind the name before stepping under it and through the entrance way into the light and noise.

His senses are assaulted, all five at once. There is raucous laughter, a guy with an electric guitar and foot pedal in the corner, cigarette smoke in the air, and he can already feel his throat involuntarily swallowing at the sight of pitchers of cold beer, carried by the waitstaff pushing past him.

His body is still, his head turning, searching, as if looking for a familiar face. He hopes the hostess will assume he is meeting someone, and leave him alone, though this will buy him a minute or two at most. He glances back to the entrance but sees nothing, and it’s possible that he’s had enough of a head start that no one tailing him would have seen him slip in.

Then there is a shadow, and two men are walking through the door. Rickon knows he is screwed, and is steeling himself for inevitable confrontation when a small hand slips into his and there is a voice in his ear.

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.” She whispers, and before he can reply with an agreeance, there are lips on his. 

He is frozen in place, though her mouth is warm enough to melt ice. His arms twitch at his sides, hands splayed out like starfish. He isn’t sure if he is allowed to touch this woman, his very own knight in shining white jersey cotton. This isn’t his first kiss, but it’s the first one where he didn’t know it was about to happen, and so he is not sure what the rules are, if there even are rules. His eyes have closed of their volition, and his every fibre is focusing on the softness of her lips and the soft huff of breath exhaling from her into him. They fit together like they have done this a thousand times before and he tentatively places one hand on her waist. Her response is to deepen the kiss, her warmth is thawing him, and he moves his other hand to cup her cheek. Now she is the frozen one, and sensing her discomfort, Rickon pulls away reluctantly, breaking their kiss.

He opens his eyes to look at her, to thank her for her quick thinking, but all he sees is a waterfall of hair and an ear poking out. She has twisted her upper half away from him, and he can see that she is tense as a rabbit caught in crosshairs.

Rickon reaches out and gently grasps her chin, rotating her to face him, and that’s when he sees it. Her left cheek is a whorl of pockmarks, scars from a long ago bout with acne, or chicken pox, he doesn’t know. What grasps his attention though is the work she has put in to covering her scars, and it takes his breath away. From her jawline, up in front of her ear, curling over to her browline is a continuous, sinuous line of ink, a tattoo in vivid green. His mind jumps in helpfully, recalling long-ago art classes, with the precise shade. Hooker green, he thinks. The tattoo is a swirling, winding branch of ivy leaves and it is the most beautiful thing Rickon has ever seen. He’s vaguely aware that he is staring, but this woman in front of him is a vision of nature and he has never seen anything so lovely. 

He eventually realises that her eyes are wide open and staring back at him. They are blue, the blue of a clear midnight sky over Winterfell, the blue of White Harbour at ten fathoms, and he is lost in them.

They continue staring at each other for what seems like eons, before he finally blinks, and starts to stutter out an apology. He’s not entirely sure why he feels compelled to apologise, but there is something so guileless about her eyes that he is struck with a need for her approval.

She cuts him off before he can get out a full sentence. “Don’t worry about it, I get it.” She speaks softly, so he has to lean in to hear her. He isn’t sure what there is to get. “I sometimes forget it’s even there,” she continues, “you just startled me is all.” She is blushing now, and her tattoo is radiant against the flush of her cheek.

He finally finds words, and he is startled to find himself blurting out “You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen” when what he was intending to say was “Thanks for the save, and also your tattoo is hella rad.” She is startled too, her pupils dilating and her flush spreading to her neck.

He wants to spend forever with this woman, finding new ways to surprise her, so he can see how far down her body the flush will go. The best way to ensure this is to start with an introduction, which seems counterproductive considering that their mouths have already met, but then he has never done things conventionally, and it seems she is the same.

He sticks his hand out awkwardly. “I’m Rickon, and my sisters tell me I’m extremely uncouth, but then, you kissed me. So, thanks for the save, and uh, yeah.”

She grins, her smile broad and laughing. “Nice to meet you, Rickon. I’m Shireen.”


End file.
